So much time, and so little to do
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I furnish my mind with pictures of you
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Fading portraits, peculiar name
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Replaced by your face in a big golden frame
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Take me inside you?
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There I will find you
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Quietly sleeping;
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Water is seeping
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Down from the skies and
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Into your eyes and
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Into the secret garden
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The icon hangs alone on the wall;
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Her sweet mouth is saying nothing at all
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Golden fragments of moments in time
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Tarnished with guilt for an innocent time
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The Secret Garden
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The Divine Comedy |